


Life In Technicolour

by averageclawenfangirl



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Angst, Cheerleader Claire, Clawen, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Handsome Rebel Owen, High-school au, It's Not All Cliche I Promise, Teenage Clawen, you get the picture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averageclawenfangirl/pseuds/averageclawenfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Clawen high-school AU, based off a prompt I received on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collab between me and @verxxotle! We hope everyone enjoys :-)

Claire Dearing should have been more than happy. She was beautiful – though it wasn’t in her personality to admit it – gorgeous red hair, perfect pale skin, and not enough freckles so that people wouldn’t take her seriously as an independent young woman. She was seventeen-years-old; popular, studying for her finals in Economics, and head of the cheer squad. She held down a job, too, putting in all hours at her local diner to provide for herself. Her mom had raised her and her sister on her own, and money didn’t come easy to the Dearings.

She and Karen had gotten on just fine without their father, inspired by how hard their momma had worked in their youth to get them through. Karen was studying to be a lawyer and Claire fantasised about running a company one day – maybe even her own. Her teachers said she’d go far – her attitude to work and her intelligence unrivalled by classmates. She and Karen could put their mom up in a fancy house, maybe even with a maid. _Yeah, that would be awesome._ That’s what kept Claire going. Her boyfriend, Brandon, never stopped telling her to “ _chill out, babe._ ” For the most part, Claire would ignore him. He was the quarterback on the football team, and his daddy was something big in oil. 

Everything seemed set in Claire’s life. _Brandon loved her, right?_ He’d never said the words, nor had she. Claire couldn’t shake the doubt that came from the fact that he wouldn’t be with her if she hadn’t climbed the social ladder; saved her wages to purchase the few cheap cosmetics she needed in order to look the part. 

Everywhere around her… Everybody was the same. The same bland conversations, the same aspirations. Claire couldn’t help but want something a little _more_. Something a little _different_. She felt greedy, as though anyone else in her position would be happy with her lot. She daren’t mention it to her friends. _Brittany and Lauren wouldn’t understand._

Claire had been distracted for a while now, and always by the same person. A candidate with the potential to be her something _‘a little different.’_ Being the flyer in the cheer squad meant Claire was used to dealing with butterflies, and the occasional trembling knees. But nothing and nobody set her nerves on fire like Owen Grady.

//

_Just talk to him. He won’t bite. Or would he?_ Claire mused, as she observed Owen making his way down the hall towards his locker. He’d removed his aviator glasses moments before, and was running a hand through his golden-brown hair, slightly mussed from his journey on the beloved motorbike he owned. He looked out of place; in his distressed leather jacket, white tee, jeans and boots, surrounded by sports logos and expensive sneakers. Out of place, without a care in the world.

He was _large_ , in every sense of the word. Taller than the average 18-year-old. Taller than Brandon. _Stop that_ , Claire told herself, as she watched him sort his books for his first class. The jacket did a dire job of disguising his well- built frame; his toned chest and golden skin on show through his shirt. Claire would be lying if she said she hadn’t noticed his arms; too, muscular and rebellious with the adorning of tattoos on the upper right side. 

_Yeah, he was gorgeous._ But he was a loner. No friends to speak of, or so it seemed to Claire. A few girls had tried it, none had succeeded. This, combined with the fact he didn’t seem to be interested in football, baseball or anything guys his age usually were partial to, meant Owen Grady was destined to become an outcast. Claire had heard Brandon and his friends tear Owen to shreds more times than she could count. He held a keen interest in historical studies, and animals. Or so, Claire had heard the teachers say.

Claire twitched her fingers through her bangs almost subconsciously. She’d planned to do this for a while. Something was drawing her to Owen like a magnet, two opposites attracting. He was a symbol of the rejection of almost everything she knew to be normal, and she’d always been a little curious of the unknown. _You never know if you don’t try, right?_

Claire exhaled deeply through her nose; and crossed the hall to where Owen was stood by his locker, repacking his bag quietly. “Hey! You’re Owen Grady, right?” She beamed, immediately wanting to kick herself for coming on a little too strong. “Uh.. Yeah,” he murmured, lifting his head at the sound of his name. “I’m Claire Dearing. Head of the cheerleading squad,” she replied, toning down her megawatt smile only just.

“Huh,” he smiled, a lazy upward tug of his lips that made something swoop low in her belly. “You don’t say?” Owen chuckled, his eyes surveying her slowly. It was gameday; and Claire was dressed in the school colours of blue and white, the short skirt and cropped shirt only missing the pom poms. She felt her face flush for a moment, before regaining control of the situation.

After a beat, she decided to plough on. _She’d gotten this far._ “I, uh, overheard Mr Hammond talking about your papers regarding the breakthrough discovery of feathered raptors. Sounds pretty impressive,” she said, and Owen raised his eyebrows with a smirk on his tanned face, his jaw disguised by a smattering of dark facial hair. 

“Now, why would a girl like you be interested in what I have to say about velociraptors?” He questioned; his tone genuinely inquisitive. To others; passing them by in the hall, it must have seemed even stranger: _the queen bee conversing with the resident weirdo._ Claire reverted to a defensive position; arms folded in front of her chest as she tried to ignore his sensual green eyes, assessing her and stripping her bare right in front of him.

“I was just… Trying to make conversation, you know? I happen to be rather interested in dinosaurs too, _actually,_ ” she huffed at his mocking tone. At this, Owen actually snorted, throwing his head back with laughter. “ _Really?!_ ” He asked, clearly sceptical. Claire narrowed her eyes, standing her ground.

“Okay,” Owen chuckled, a noise rumbling low in his chest. “That’s cool. Humans are an overrated species,” he murmured, winking at Claire in a way that had her half-outraged and half-turned on. “Well, I like people, too,” Claire simpered, casually running a hand through the hair that landed razor-sharp on her shoulder. “You know, _most_ people,” she added. 

Owen sighed, checking his watch. “Alright, so what do you want?” He requested, expression transforming from light-hearted into serious lines. “ _Excuse_ me?!” Claire wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Well; you’ve had your fun, poking a stick at the weird kid… So, what is it that you want from me? Rather: what is that your dumb jock boyfriend wants from me?” Owen narrowed his eyes at her accusingly.

“My boyfriend is not a _dumb jock_ ; thankyou very much, and all I was trying to do was talk to you! I mean, I noticed that you haven’t got many friends –“ Claire tried to argue, before Owen shook his head and laughed almost cruelly. “Thanks; sweetheart, but I don’t really need your help,” he muttered; before brushing past her and heading down the hall, presumably towards his class. 

Claire was stood bereft at his locker, chewing her lip in uncertainty. _It was okay_ , she guessed. She had almost expected that reaction from him, at first. But she’d seen something in his eyes – those alluring eyes, twinkling from beneath his brows - a little humour, a slight kindness towards her. _Maybe it would just take time_. She wasn’t going to quit. The Dearing determination wasn’t about to let her fall at the first hurdle. Owen Grady fascinated her, and she couldn’t put a finger on why. Maybe he was a little technicolour in her world – one that was slowly but surely fading to grey. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad at summaries.. So I hope you guys enjoy this!

“Jesus, Claire!” She heard Brittany’s panicked voice screech from below her as her knees wobbled precariously. They were running through a simple prep and elevator drill: Claire, as the flyer of the cheerleader team, was being supported by the hands of the bases as she stood above with her arms outstretched in the air. It was a stunt they did day in, day out – and Claire never faltered. Until her mind floated elsewhere on the summer breeze to the sight of Owen Grady; on the parking lot beside them, meticulously polishing his motorcycle.

In the week that had passed since their fleeting interaction, Claire hadn’t attempted to make conversation with him again. She’d cursed herself for making him feel as though she had taken _pity_ on him, or anything like that. Owen just interested Claire: the way he held himself and was so unbothered by people’s comments caused her to admire him.

She’d paused for a moment, after Biology class, when she’d overheard two of the teachers talking in low voices about him. “You know that Owen Grady? Incredible mind. His papers on the Jurassic period are unlike anything I’ve ever read before,” one of them had murmured. Her teacher, Professor Sattler, had nodded her head enthusiastically. “Truly. It’s such a shame about his father, though. He was the one who gave him that bike…” she said, and they had carried their conversation out of Claire’s earshot, oblivious to her presence.

_So, something had happened to Owen’s father._ Claire was yet to discover exactly what, but she could sense it wasn’t good. So; to see him clearly so obsessed with the motorcycle tugged at her heart just slightly, and therefore was the perfect distraction during a cheerleading drill she knew more than comfortably. 

“Shit, I’m sorry! I don’t know what happened to me… Must be the heat,” Claire smiled uneasily, now, as she was lowered back down; surrounded by her teammates. Brittany eyed her suspiciously. “Yeah, well… Go drink some water, or something. We can’t have our flyer fainting on us out there,” she sighed, and flounced off to oversee the other training groups. Claire rolled her eyes at her friend’s retreating figure.

Claire swiped a bottle from the cooler bag; and subconsciously adjusted the ribbons in her ponytail, breathing in deeply and psyching herself up for another turbulent encounter with Owen Grady. _Don’t overthink it. Just go with it,_ she told herself, placing one white sneaker in front of the other as she crossed the field over to where Owen was knelt beside his bike.

“Hey,” she murmured, timidly at first, hesitantly clearing her throat. He didn’t turn round immediately; rather, he laid the wrench he’d been using aside on the gravel and searched for the rag beside him. Owen swivelled his head at last; puzzled expression marring his features as he rose to his full height in front of her. His frame towered over Claire; he smelt – not unpleasantly – of heady cologne, barbecued food and sweet summer grass. 

“Miss Dearing,” he smirked, wiping his hands on the cloth. His plain white shirt was covered a little with grease, as were his jeans. His trademark jacket was slung unceremoniously across the seat of the Triumph. The contrast between the two of them could not be more obvious: Claire; in her pristine, neat cheerleading outfit, compacted and perfect. Owen; smudged with dirt and _freedom_ , sweat beading on his forehead as he surveyed her intensely from his tanned face.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he murmured, eyes travelling over every aspect of her outfit. “But have you just come from Math class?” He chuckled, and Claire couldn’t fight the smile emerging on her face as she rolled her eyes skywards and wrinkled her nose in indignation. Trust him to remember her pointless comment from the last time they spoke, and turn it into a joke at her expense. It meant one thing, though. _He didn’t hate her._

“You’re really funny,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. Owen’s eyebrows instantly rose, placing a hand on his chest theatrically. Claire had to avert her eyes from the broad, muscled plane; his calloused hand resting gently as it rose and fell. “Why, Miss Dearing, I never knew you cared,” he laughed, his tone lazily sexy. Owen leant back casually against the bike and folded his arms over one another; gazing at her expectantly, waiting for her to say her piece, to screw it up all over again.

“I like your bike,” she muttered, nodding her head in inclination. Owen smirked yet again, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “I like it, too,” he murmured, voice rumbling low through the still summer air. _Oh, so this is how he was going to play it, huh?_ Claire began to tap her foot impatiently; herself now crossing her arms in a defensive stance.

“Look, I know I screwed up when we last spoke. I never meant for it to seem as though –“ Claire began, intent on saying her piece. Owen raised a hand to stop her, and came to stand mere inches apart from her. “I know. You just… Took me by surprise, is all,” he murmured; voice dropping even lower, and the tension felt unbearable to Claire. “Girls like you don’t tend to be seen talking to guys like me,” he continued, tilting his head to one side inquisitively.

Claire felt momentarily incensed; another person putting her in a box of stereotypes. “What do you mean, _girls like me?_ ” She retorted, taking a step back to regain important personal space. Owen sighed and clenched his jaw in retaliation, shaking his head slightly. “You know,” he muttered, waving a hand in the general direction of her attire. “Queen Bee. Popular, smart girl. Someone who probably loves to shop, and is on some sort of diet that doesn’t even allow tequila.”

Claire opened her mouth, and closed it again. She was seething, rage bubbling inside her veins. “You don’t know _shit_ about me, Owen,” she began, each word punctuated with verbal poison. “I know that,” he nodded earnestly, apparently surprised by how much his comments had irritated her. He ran a hand through the back of his hair nervously. “You’re different. In a good way. That’s why I said… You surprised me.“ he said softly, and the _look_ was back. The look that made Claire feel as though he were x-raying her, body and soul.

“And I’m supposed to be _grateful_ for that?” She questioned, jerking her chin in indignation. “No – look, that’s not what I meant,” he sighed, scratching his facial hair, and Claire took a little pleasure in seeing him crumble slightly in front of her. “What I mean to say is… You’re cool. Too gorgeous for your own good, but, cool,” Owen said softly, green eyes staring into her own.

She hated herself for feeling her heart flutter at the notion of him finding her gorgeous. Not that she’d ever tell him, of course. Claire felt a small smile ripple across her features. She came to lean on the bike beside him, hands placed behind her back. “I’m sorry about your father,” she said, quietly. Owen turned his head sideways in surprise, looking at her in wonderment. “How did you know about that?”

“Well, I don’t… Exactly,” she mumbled, bringing her hands round to twist her fingers uncomfortably. “I overheard two teachers talking. About how clever you are, and about how whatever happened to your father was a real shame,” she continued, and Owen’s features softened. “Car accident. Two years ago. The only day he didn’t ride the damn bike to work,” he almost whispered, a smile so forlorn it made Claire’s heart sink. 

“Hey,” Claire murmured, coming to stand in front of him so he lifted his gaze from the floor. “He’d be so proud of you, Owen. You need to know that,” she said softly. “You think so?” He asked, and Claire nodded in earnest. Owen looked at her in a way that made her heart do somersaults; affection blooming from the smallest comment clear to see in his eyes. He was gazing at her in a way Brandon never had.

Claire cleared her throat and broke the contact, turning round to see the progress of cheer practice. “I should really be getting back,” she mumbled, fiddling with the cap of the water bottle she’d picked back up. “Of course,” Owen nodded. “Can’t let your girl gang carry on without you,” he winked; and she felt it once more: an outrageous mix of being turned on and the flare of anger.

“They’re not my _girl gang,_ they’re my teammates,” she replied icily, narrowing her eyes. Owen rightfully quailed under her stare, his eyes widening slightly. “Right. With you on that,” he gulped. Claire smiled in satisfaction. “I’ll see you around?” she asked, unsure what his reaction would be. Despite herself, despite the fact he could be a total ass; she saw the softer, more vulnerable side of him. _She liked him._

“I’d like that,” Owen murmured; his confidence returning, smiling in a lazy, sexy way that made her insides squirm a little, for which she gave herself a prompt telling-off. Claire turned and made her way back across the field to the squad, trying to banish the foolish grin sweeping across her features. _They were friends, right?_ Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Claire was so distracted by thoughts of forest green eyes and flawless tan skin that she didn’t take notice of the fact that Brandon and his friends had appeared at cheer practice. She was fixing the lace on her sneaker when a shadow loomed over her, darkening the grass in the evening sun. “Hey, baby,” Brandon murmured, and she stood up to greet him. “Hey!” Claire smiled, as sweetly as she could muster.

“Where have you been? Tiffany and Brittany said you disappeared for like, a whole ten minutes,” he laughed harshly, making no attempt to pull her close, instead sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Claire was half thankful for it. “Uh, I’ve just been talking to Owen. You know, Owen Grady?” Claire mumbled, trying to sound braver than she felt. _Brandon was such an ass, sometimes._ She knew he’d flip about it, but it would’ve been worse to lie.

“What business have you got talking to that weirdo? Dude thinks he’s some sort of animal whisperer. Jake heard him talking to Hammond about how he thinks dinosaurs would be able to _understand_ us,” Brandon snorted unkindly. “I think it’s fascinating” Claire retaliated immediately. “If you actually read it –“ she began, before he interrupted her. “Wait a minute, wait a minute – you think _you_ can understand what he writes? Come on, babe. You’re not that smart,” Brandon laughed, clearly thinking he’d made the joke of the century. 

Claire pursed her lips and stayed silent. “Oh, look, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, after finally realising her expression and pulling her reluctantly into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. It all felt forced: a farcical display of affection to get back on her good side. “It was just a joke,” he murmured into her ear.

_Say a joke enough times and it starts to become true,_ Claire thought miserably. With the side of her face pressed to Brandon’s chest, she could see Owen packing away his tools and readying his helmet. He threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder, in Claire and Brandon’s direction. It felt almost like she was betraying him… _Which was ludicrous, right?_ She was Brandon’s, not Owen’s. Though, as she watched him drive away, Claire felt herself sadly contemplating the fact –despite his earlier admissions - it would never even cross Owen’s mind to belittle her in that way.  



	3. Chapter 3

It was the start of a new semester, and Claire hadn’t seen Owen for weeks. It wasn’t to say she hadn’t been thinking about him. She’d been almost _disturbed_ by the amount of free time she spent musing over thoughts of Owen Grady. It was odd… Everything about the entire situation seemed wrong; they were both from vastly different backgrounds, moving in entirely separate circles. But something about the way he looked at Claire made her feel almost as though she had no identity; that Owen was willing to accept her as a blank slate. _Almost._ In the times she’d seen him since their conversation in the parking lot; it had been fleeting glances in the hall, awkward smiles in the cafeteria at lunch. Something told Claire that Owen still had his walls built up around her, and she felt the strange urge to break them down.

Claire was sorting her books for her first class, tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she organised her neat locker. Closing the door, she was startled by Brandon leaning against the wall beside her. “Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured, flicking a cigarette lighter. “You shouldn’t do that in here,” Claire reminded him, raising her eyebrows as she sighed. Brandon rolled his eyes, stuffing the lighter back in his pocket. “Alright, Miss Sensible,” he laughed. “What would I do without you, huh? C’mere,” he murmured, tugging Claire towards him and kissing her lightly. “I’ve got to go,” Claire said softly, slipping out of his grasp and turning away from him. “I’ll pick you up at seven!” He called after her, and Claire didn’t bother to turn round. 

_What the fuck was happening to her?_ Claire had been mad about Brandon for months before he’d finally asked her out. He was typically gorgeous; blonde hair flopping over his forehead and beautiful blue eyes. More than that, though: he had wanted to take care of her. Brandon spoiled her rotten after their first few dates, and she’d never felt so loved in her life. He’d been her first for everything, and he made her feel special.

Just a year down the line, though, and Claire couldn’t fight the doubts blooming in her mind. Nor the way she noticed him outwardly staring at other girls when he thought she wasn’t looking, or the way he constantly marred her academic success with a jealous joke or comment. _It was just natural, though, right?_ All couples went through this, surely. That’s what her friends told her, anyway. Claire wasn’t a quitter, and Brandon made her happy. 

“Miss Dearing, I’d like you to sit with Owen Grady, please,” Professor Masrani directed her, smiling kindly as he pointed over to the lab stools closest to the window. _Oh, shit,_ Claire panicked, chewing her bottom lip. She’d been so distracted by thoughts of her relationship that she hadn’t been paying attention as she’d slipped into the classroom, waiting to be allocated a place for the coming semester. Claire didn’t even know he’d be in her class; and now, of all people, she’d been paired with him. 

Owen had both his elbows resting on the table, staring ahead as he chewed a pencil absentmindedly between his teeth. Hearing her name and his called out together, his head swivelled in Claire’s direction, raising his eyebrows in surprise at her approaching figure. Claire dropped her bag underneath the raised desk, shifting a little in her seat and smoothing her dress down her thighs, attempting to look anywhere other than into his eyes. “Hey, trouble,” he muttered, sipping from his bottle of water.

“Hey, Owen,” she murmured, thanking god for the fact she sounded a lot more confident than she felt. “Long time, no see,” she said softly, looking at Owen sideways through her lashes to see his hands still as he sorted his papers. “Uhuh,” he replied a little wearily, and Claire felt her heart rate spike a little as she watched his large, calloused hands twist the pencil round and round, his skin even more tan than she remembered. He’d clearly spent some time away in the sun; his coppery hair was streaked with dirty blonde, green eyes even more pronounced in a face that seemed to have seen more than he should have at only eighteen. Claire swallowed hard and proceeded to sort her papers, too, just to give herself something to do whilst Professor Masrani addressed the class.

“Now, I know I’ve sat you all with people that you wouldn’t usually sit with,” he said, and Claire fought the urge to laugh. _You have no idea._ “But I’m a firm believer in trying something new, so I’m going to give you fifteen minutes to get to know one another. Begin!” Masrani said with a smile, clapping his hands together enthusiastically. “Alright,” Owen said, turning to Claire as she began to say “Look, I know –“ Both of them stared at one another for a beat, Owen blinking in surprise. “You first,” he smiled, running a hand through his hair.

Claire exhaled as she fiddled with the lid of her pen, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I know you’ve got some sort of… _Perceived idea_ of who I am, based on who my boyfriend is and who my friends are,” she said, looking up to see Owen observing her with narrowed eyes, a smile ghosting across his features. “Go on,” he urged her. “But I just wanted to say… I meant what I said, in the parking lot that time. In the hallway, too. I just want to be friends with you, you know? I think you’re interesting –“ Owen chuckled. “Interesting?! _Me?_ Oh, Miss Dearing. I’m truly flattered,” he smirked, hand over heart.

Claire rolled her eyes and fought the urge not to smile. “This is not going to work if you act like a total ass the entire time,” she muttered. Owen smiled kindly, shaking his head. “I know. I’m only messing with you. Before you so rudely interrupted me,” he said, ignoring Claire’s outrage, “I was going to apologise to you for how I acted. Like I said, you’re different,” he mused, his tone soft as his green eyes glinted at her. Claire felt as though it was only the two of them in the entire room, suddenly deaf to everybody around them. 

Claire shattered the spell, broke the moment as her eyes darted away and she cleared her throat. “Different is good,” Owen murmured, and she could tell he was still watching her intently. “I know that,” Claire said with indifference, shrugging her shoulders as she flipped open her textbook. “Good. So, we’re partners, right?” He asked almost cautiously, and Claire lifted her chin to meet his eyes again. His presence was almost overpowering; both of them barely inches apart from one another. Claire; prim and innocent enough in her floral dress and denim jacket, pale limbs bared and swinging dangerously close to his. Owen radiated warmth, even in just a white tee and jeans. There was a dirt – a wilderness – on him that he could never quite clean off, she was sure of that much. It made her belly twist in a way she’d never known before; dark excitement beginning to stir. “Partners,” she echoed, biting her lip shyly as she smiled.   



End file.
